


On the Rocks

by TheUnforgiven



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Bartender AU, Bartender!Kuroo, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, they're both in their late 20s jsyk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8609911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnforgiven/pseuds/TheUnforgiven
Summary: Kuroo has been working at this bar for a number of years, but he's still not prepared for the night that Akaashi walks into the place, looking like a quiet angel and making him fall head over heels before he can even ask what can I get you?Bartender AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was completely random and came out of nowhere, so of course I had to drop everything and write it immediately. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!

The first time Kuroo sees him walk into the bar, he’s serving a highball to the same kind of old man in a suit that’s usually here on a Wednesday night, but suddenly, he can’t take his eyes off the door. He watches as the beautiful stranger slowly makes his way into the bar, passes his counter, examines the wall of bottles behind Kuroo’s head. By the time he’s taking a lonely seat on the far side of the counter, the old man in front of Kuroo is clearing his throat softly, and Kuroo finally releases his hand from the glass, laughing awkwardly and apologizing before moving onto the next customer.

For a Wednesday, it’s busy, but not frantic. Kuroo quickly marks down his mental list of customers, happy when he finally comes to the new man who captured his attention. He takes one breath to steady himself before putting on his best service smile and approaching the quiet man at the end of the counter.

The man’s presence is quiet, but his voice is quieter, so much so that Kuroo almost doesn’t hear his even request for _a glass of_ _Hibiki, on the rocks, please._ It’s a bit surprising, since Kuroo can tell the man can’t be much older than he himself is—if he even is older—but he thinks that the drink still suits him somehow. But it’s very rare that a drink doesn’t match the person ordering it, and Kuroo finds in those scenarios it’s only because he doesn’t know the person well enough to know why it might suit them.

The man’s drink is a simple one, but Kuroo is careful and takes his time because he can, pouring out the fine whiskey into a rocks glass, dropping in three large cubes of ice, and finally presenting it with a charismatic smile. The man nods his thanks, and Kuroo can almost feel the burn in his own throat as he takes a thin sip.  

Kuroo keeps an eye on him as he flits around behind the counter, tending to the tired businessmen looking for any excuse not to go home yet. After some time, the man taps the counter gently with two slim fingers, and though it should be near impossible to notice, Kuroo’s eyes are riveted to the gesture immediately. His drink is finished so he orders another, and Kuroo prepares it with the same care, presents it with the same smile.

The man doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t move except to take slow sips of his drink, but his eyes flit around the bar with something that resembles detached interest, and there is some quality about the quiet, beautiful man sitting at his counter that makes Kuroo desperately want to speak to him, to tell him something that’s just out of the reach of his memory.

But the time comes for the man to leave; he pulls several bills from his pocket and sets them on the counter, before standing up and catching Kuroo’s eye. He bows slightly, then he turns and makes his way past the counter, across the bar and to the door.

Kuroo doesn’t have the time to protest, to call him back and say _there’s something I need to tell you, it’s important, please wait here until I can remember it_. Instead, he watches the man pull a deep green scarf around his neck and step out the door into the cool night, hoping that one evening, he’ll come back for another drink.

 

«                   »

 

Kuroo sighs with relief on the second visit, because he knows well enough that if a customer comes back a second time within a short while, they’re probably planning to stay.

The man crosses the bar and settles in the same seat at the end. Kuroo smiles, _hello again_ , and the man doesn’t say anything, but Kuroo can see the acknowledgement in his eyes. He orders the same drink, and Kuroo smiles his trademark smile again when he delivers it, because he almost certainly has time now; time to figure out what it is he so desperately wants to tell this man, time to take chances, time to slide in just a little closer.

 

 «                   »

 

It’s five visits before Kuroo can muster up the courage to ask the man’s name with a smile, because _I have to know the names of all my regulars, it’s my job_ , even though that’s a lie, and in return for his efforts, he gets a soft stare, and a slow _Akaashi, Akaashi Keiji_.

Kuroo gives his name as well, and Akaashi repeats it just as slowly, tasting it like he tastes his whiskey. Kuroo’s given his name to countless customers, but it’s never felt quite so exposing before.

 

 «                   »

 

It’s three more visits after that before Kuroo goes out on a tenuous limb and asks _why_ , _why come here when your drink is expensive and you’re never looking for company?_ This time, all he gets is a shrug, and after a thoughtful moment; _there are other reasons to be among people, Kuroo-san._

Kuroo asks _well, what are those reasons?_ Another shrug is all he gets.

 

 «                   »

 

On the tenth visit, Akaashi comes to the bar late, just an hour before Kuroo’s shift ends at three, on a Friday night. He takes his usual seat, orders his usual whiskey, and drinks in the atmosphere from his place at the counter, eyes tired but still always on the move.

It’s a busy night, and Kuroo gives the last call at a half-hour till closing time. After he serves all the drinks, he starts cleaning up; wiping the spills and peanut husks off the counter, cleaning the taps, washing glasses.

Finally, he gives the call of _alright, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here, we’re officially closed!_ It takes a bit of the usual coercing to get the last patrons out the door, but after a few minutes, everyone has funneled out, and Kuroo locks up and takes a deep, calming sigh.

He turns away from the door, runs a hand through his hair, looks up and is startled to find Akaashi’s quiet stare leveled at him from across the bar, dark hair and dark eyes harmonizing with the walls. Kuroo blinks, wonders how he could possibly have missed the man still sitting at the counter. He walks over, _hey, you’re still here_. Akaashi regards him for a moment, seems to realize the bar is empty, then _sorry, have you closed? I was a bit lost in my thoughts, I’ll go—_

He moves to stand up, but Kuroo reaches out a hand suddenly, motions for him to stay seated. _It’s okay, you can stay, if you want? At least finish your drink, it’s expensive._ Akaashi regards him again, a clearly questioning look on his face, but he nods, _thank you_ , and takes another sip.

Kuroo goes back to his cleaning, trying to ignore Akaashi’s gaze on his back. He’s always loved this time of night, when the bar is empty and quiet, when the tiredness still clings to his eyes and makes him think about life. He likes to dance and sing while he cleans usually, but he doesn’t tonight, since he has company. Still, he can’t help but notice that the quiet is comfortable like this, with an interesting stranger here to subtly change the atmosphere.

When Akaashi’s drink is finished, he stands up and walks over to Kuroo, taps his shoulder—he bows, _I’m sorry for keeping you_ , and heads towards the door. Kuroo stumbles over what to say, stumbles over to the door to unlock it for him, _it’s no problem, I hope I’ll see you again soon_.

He’s rewarded with the tiniest smile, quickly hidden by the same deep green scarf, and then Akaashi is gone. Akaashi is gone, and Kuroo suddenly realizes that the silence is deafening without him there to give it purpose.

 

 «                   »

 

On the twelfth visit, Kuroo is starting to lose track, but he knows that there’s no pattern. Akaashi comes when he wants to, which is fairly often, but not on any particular day or at any particular time. The only thing that remains consistent is his drink, _Hibiki, on the rocks_. Kuroo would love to have the drink ready when the man walked in, if he knew when Akaashi would come, but they have their own rhythm, where they make eye contact as soon as he does come and Kuroo has the drink on the counter by the time Akaashi has settled and unwound his scarf.

Akaashi doesn’t smile much, Kuroo knows, but when he does, it’s a truly beautiful thing. It’s enchanting, and purposeful, and so, so fleeting, and Kuroo would die for a picture if he could just be quick enough.

But Kuroo also knows that Akaashi’s smile isn’t his only happiness, knows that Akaashi’s expressions are subtle and quiet just like he is. He’s beginning to see them, not from the features on Akaashi’s face but from all the other cues; from how he settles onto the bar stool, from the soft rhythm of his fingers, from what his eyes linger on. Kuroo can see the tiny differences between happiness, and content, and weariness now, and he would die for a picture of any of these too if he could just figure out how to ask.

 

 «                   »

 

On the seventeenth visit, Akaashi comes in just before closing again, even closer this time. Kuroo is giving the last call when he walks in, and his voice falters for half a second before continuing. It’s not too busy, only a few people hanging around on a Monday night, and Kuroo has the drink ready and on the counter as Akaashi sets his scarf down on the stool next to him, just like clockwork.

The night continues as usual, and when it comes time to usher everyone out, Kuroo takes a breath and makes eye contact with Akaashi from behind the counter, tries to communicate _wait there_ , and Akaashi nods almost imperceptibly.

Once everyone’s out, Kuroo locks the door, heads back to the counter, tries to lean on it casually. _Would you let me make you a cocktail? On the house._ Akaashi’s head tilts slightly, but he nods again, _sure_ , and Kuroo smiles.

Kuroo has been trying to figure it out for weeks—the perfect cocktail for Akaashi’s tastes—because straight whiskey isn’t particularly artful to make, and Kuroo wants to be artful, wants to show Akaashi his skill at mixing drinks.

He’d tasted the _Hibiki_ again himself, tried it with ice just like Akaashi drinks it, thought about the flavors and the bite. Then he’d pored over the collection of drinks he’d memorized, mixed a few to taste, played around with the recipes, and finally, he’d settled on this one; an uncommon classic, with just the right mix of flavors to compliment the substituted _Hibiki_.

Kuroo takes the empty glass from in front of Akaashi and sets it behind the counter with the other glasses to be cleaned. Then, he pulls out two fresh rocks glasses and sets to work.

Akaashi’s eyes are curiously following him as he muddles sugar and water, adds the ice. He wants Akaashi’s eyes on him, wants him to see every careful gesture, and so he tries not to let any nerves get between him and the cocktail he’d perfected for this moment. He adds the _Hibiki_ , the dashes of two types of bitters, mixes them with a glass stir stick to chill them. Into the second glass, he pours a small dash of absinthe, swirls it around to coat the sides and leaves the extra in, then strains the whiskey mixture into the glass. He carefully pares a wedge of lemon peel and rubs it around the edge of the glass, twists it, and finally drops it in with the drink.

Kuroo smiles when he sets the glass in front of Akaashi, explains _a Sazerac, with Hibiki, I hope you like it_ , and Akaashi’s eyes flick up to his face and back to the drink before he carefully lifts it to his lips, his eyes naturally closing.

Kuroo holds his breath while Akaashi sips, rolls it across his tongue, considers it, and finally, he hears _it’s delicious_ , almost drowned out by the tiny smile that has appeared on Akaashi’s face. When he looks up from the drink, looks into Kuroo’s eyes, Kuroo can feel himself turning red, and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, says _thank you, I’m glad, this drink is usually made with rye whiskey but I thought that the lemon and absinthe would complement the fruitiness and aromatic quality of the Hibiki, and the bitters would match the crisp finish—_ but suddenly he can’t talk anymore, because Akaashi is tugging him gently down by his tie, is kissing him with the flavor of that carefully crafted cocktail on his lips.

He pulls away far faster than Kuroo would like, but it’s almost worth it to see the blush on his cheeks, to see his bashful expression as he lowers himself back into his seat. _Sorry_ , he says, looking away, and Kuroo blurts _can I take your picture?_ Akaashi is startled, his eyes widening, but after a second he nods, and Kuroo pulls out his phone to take it. Akaashi tugs on his fingers, clearly not sure where to look or what expression to make or what to do, and Kuroo takes a picture of him just like that, and he knows it’s the most beautiful one he’s ever taken.

Kuroo is startled too, when Akaashi quietly asks _can I take one?_ , but he nods quickly enough, tries not to look awkward or nervous behind the counter as Akaashi raises his phone to take it. When he’s done, another tiny smile graces Akaashi’s features as he admires the photo, before he carefully puts his phone away and returns to his drink.

Kuroo goes back to his cleaning too, and this time, he does dance and sing a bit as he goes about it, happy for Akaashi’s eyes on him.

 

 «                   »

 

The eighteenth visit is just a few days later, on a Friday night. Akaashi shows up late into the morning again, and Kuroo really loves it this way, knowing that just a short hour separates him and some quiet time with Akaashi in the bar’s magical end-of-the-night atmosphere.

And he doesn’t have to signal this time, Akaashi stays in his seat when Kuroo ushers everyone out, stays there sipping his cocktail and watching Kuroo approach him. _I have a question for you this time_ , and Akaashi raises an eyebrow. _We’re closing early for a staff party tomorrow night, would you go with me?_ Akaashi smiles, nods, _of course_. Kuroo’s smile widens, _the party starts at eleven, but we’re closing up at ten, you can come early and hang out if you want, just say my name at the door and they’ll let you in_.

 

 «                   »

 

On the nineteenth visit, there’s the party. It’s small, but loud, and Kuroo’s having fun dancing since it’s not his turn to man the bar.

When he looks over, he sees Akaashi there, sitting at the end of the bar by himself. There’s that stout rocks glass on the counter between his fingers, filled with amber whiskey that swirls softly as he idly taps his fingers.

Kuroo knows that he would look sad—does look sad—to any random passersby, but Kuroo is not any random passerby, not anymore. He doesn’t know everything yet, but he knows Akaashi well enough, and that is why he doesn’t go over to him, doesn’t slide into the stool next to him and ask _are you okay?_ or _do you want to dance?_

This isn’t Akaashi’s scene. It isn’t, but Kuroo has learned how much he enjoys being here anyway. He’s learned how much Akaashi loves to revel in the atmosphere of any place, regardless of whether he fits into it or not. He’s learned how Akaashi loves to be the outsider, to watch and observe the storm from afar, or find his way right into the eye of it for a better view. He doesn’t need to participate to enjoy it, but he will if he wants to, and that’s fine.

Akaashi catches his eye from across the bar, catches him staring, and Kuroo smiles. Akaashi only blinks at him, but Kuroo can feel the gratefulness of the gesture, the gratefulness that Kuroo has acknowledged that he is here, in this moment, the silent record of all events. And even if Kuroo has a million things to say, a million things to ask, a million things he wants to do, this is all Akaashi wants right now, and for him, Kuroo is happy to wait.

 

 «                   »


End file.
